HOME-MAKER
WOW: smudge. Castiel could never have dreamed that having a home could lead to such an ordeal.
Disclaimer: I don't own him
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Castiel was broken. The angel was fallen, and flattened. His spirit crushed, his wings shattered. His grace nothing more than a smudge of flickering grey. There was no way he could go on.
He had been so elated when the Winchesters had offered him a room in the bunker; a home of his own. How could he have imagined such initial joy would lead to this utter nightmare?
Castiel groaned. He felt as empty and flat as the cardboard boxes which littered the floor around him.
Flat-pack furniture was a torment far worse than anything Crowley or Lucifer could have dreamed up.
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